A Case Study
by 347-Flavors
Summary: Sugarless Gum pregnancy adventures, with preg!Marceline.  Rated T for maybe some future explicit stuff.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, the Sugarless Gum fandom finally enters its Baby Boomer phase. Oh how I do so love a good pregnancy fic. I couldn't help myself. This one's going to have multiple chapters, of which this will probably be the longest.

Edit: A reader asked whose sperm was used to get Marceline pregnant. I figured that candy tissue must be really easy to engineer, especially bubblegum tissue. So PB could have taken a glob of her hair or some other tissue and used her science to re-specialize it into sperm, similarly to how we can re-specialize stem cells into nearly any other type of cell (even sperm). That would be what the "milky primrose fluid" is, artificial Bonnibel sperm. That's my pseudoscience and I'm sticking to it.

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><p>Had it only been one month? Time raced by quickly for her, centuries blending into mere year spans, and yet the last thirty days had seemed a millennium to her. The vial was long and thin, almost filled with a milky primrose fluid, corked tight with porous, spongy wood. The needle was long, yes, but her tolerance was high from combat and the Princess had a steady hand. They would reconvene there in a month's time. To see if the procedure had worked.<p>

And a month had passed, leaving Marceline strumming anxiously on her bass at home. She had the consternation of one expecting a visitor. The visitor would bring precious news for which she had waited that long, long month. On cue, a knock sounded at her door. Laying down her bass on the couch stiff from disuse, Marceline floated toward the door and tried her best not to fling it open with relief.

"Hey."

A forced response. Something cool to say.

"Hey," Bubblegum smiled and Marceline matched, with an uneasy grin.

"Um, I guess it's time to head over to your lab, huh?"

"I think so."

"It's dusk out there, right?" she queried, pulling on tanned bomber jacket.

"Of course."

"Alright then," Marceline stepped out of her house, pulling her long arms through the jacket's sleeves. With a wing tucked over her stately head, the Princess' giant falcon sat preening in the mouth of Marceline's cave.

"You brought the Morrow?"

"Some of us can't fly," Bubblegum teased, "I needed to get here somehow."

"Duh," Marceline knocked a gentle fist to her temple in a mock gesture, "How do I ride her?"

"Just on her back."

"Ok."

She hopped on to the Morrow's broad back. The bird's crowned head turned back, examining Marceline curiously. Her eyes, furrowed into her great skull, focused in on the vampire queen, her gently writhing tendrils of hair, her glinting canines. Marceline reached out to pat her beak, another hand scrubbing her feathered brow.

"Hey there, girl."

Bubblegum smiled, pleased at the affection, before joining Marceline on her steed's back and asking if she's ready to go.

"Let's do it," Marceline replied, placing a silently meaningful hand on her lover's knee. The Morrow took off, flying victoriously from the red jaws of the cave. She reached altitudes high, but not as high as Marceline usually flies. Still, looking down on the quickly darkening land below, the vampire became unusually dizzy. That struck her as definitely out of place. Heights hadn't bothered her since before she first became a vampire, and the sensation perturbed her. Bubblegum noticed.

"Are you alright back there?"

Marceline tossed her head forward in a half-nod, trying to steady herself by keeping her eyes on the Morrow's neck before her. Upon arrival at the Candy Castle, she wobbled to the tiled floor, still light headed with vertigo. Bubblegum's hand on her shoulder proved lightly steadying, but, too proud, she shrugged it off.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Let's get down to that science dungeon of yours."

"It's not a dungeon," Bubblegum chastised playfully, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever."

Marceline took a thick sheet of black hair on her arm, then tossed it over her left shoulder before making her way down the halls with the princess. The castle was full of candy servants and courtiers, readying themselves for the night's sleep. A caramel square nearly bumped into the wall, so tired was he, earning a snicker from Marceline that in turn incurred an annoyed glance from Bubblegum.

They entered the Princess' lab through an antechamber in which Bubblegum's lab coat hung. She donned it, as well as a pair of visor-like goggles that she insisted Marceline put on as well. The lab itself was lit brightly. The whole place seemed claustrophobic, each surface cluttered with this beaker or that dusty textbook. The red pupil of an oval eye stared at Marceline from its pale green jar atop a shelf. A cooler lay in the corner of the room, a neat row of pink-filled syringes chilling upon its ice chips. A skull sat atop a flask labeled "DO NOT DRINK" and rested its jaw on an Anti-Gravity Tote Chamber waiting patiently for next year's Back-Rubbing Ceremony at Congressional Hall. Marceline paused to examine a pale map of Ooo tacked to the wall, pointing to her cave and smirking.

"So, how's this gonna go down?"

"I just need to run a couple of tests," Bubblegum was already readying her equipment, "It shouldn't take too long."

"What kind of tests?"

"You know. Pregnancy tests."

An awkward pause commenced between the two women. Was it really the first time either of them had mentioned it all month? Marceline swallowed thickly, but broke the silence.

"No duh, Bonni. But I mean, how do they work? Do I just sit there or what?"

_And how did I get roped into this?_ she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue.

"Well, I'll need a urine sample and maybe a fetal heartbeat."

"Um. So. I pee in a cup...?"

Bubblegum nodded and handed her one, which she took sulkily to a washroom in the antechamber. Upon her return Bubblegum noticed a deep eggplant blush plastered across her cobalt grey face. As innocuously as possible, Bubblegum retrieved the sample, then exited into an adjoining room, returning in a few minutes.

"Well, I've got to check on that later."

"What've you got going in there?"

"Oh nothing," she murmured, dismissive and perhaps embarrassed, then hastily changed the subject, "What shall we do while we wait?"

Marceline shrugs, "How about reminding me why I'm the one doing this again? I mean, no offense Bonni, but when we talked about starting a family I imagined you as the barefoot and pregnant type."

Her voice hitched trying uncomfortably to make that penultimate word escape her mouth in a manner that seemed natural.

"Because I wanted to study vampire reproduction, Marceline."

"Right."

"And," the princess smiled, "you'll be cute."

"I'm not cute! I'm sexy and mysterious and a vampire for glob's sake!" Marceline's face heated a little, "'m not cute..."

Bubblegum kissed her blazing cheek with a giggle, "Sure, Marmalade."

Marceline crossed her arms and perched her right leg atop her left knee, kicking out her booted foot grumpily.

"Yeah, well, shouldn't my pee be ready by now?"

"Just a couple more minutes. Just give Science a bit more time."

There was that embarrassment again, and a small blush.

Marceline snorted amusedly, "You're so dorky. What's so embarrassing? What's that big blush for?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just going to check on Science - "

"Wait, the rat?"

"Yes," she skittishly exited into the same room as before, "I'll be right back."

Marceline followed her into what turned out to be a specimen closet, the central table in which was occupied by Science the Rat's tank. The rodent was there, in the throes of heated mating with a male candy-corn rat. Marceline laughed out loud.

"Oh my Glob, I've never seen her so . . . active. But what does your horny rat have to do with me being pregnant?"

The word was becoming more natural.

"Well, I, um . . . I injected your urine into her ovaries. The high concentration of pregnancy related hormones are making her so . . ." blushing, Bubblegum couldn't bring herself to complete her sentence.

Marceline's breath quickened

"So I am then? Pregnant . . .?"

"I think so."

"Wow . . ."

The tall woman slipped over to where her lover stood, threading her long arms about Bubblegum's waist. In an unusual state of quiet, Marceline pressed her face into the warm curve of the princess' pink neck so that Bubblegum could feel the smile there. It was fierce and uncertain, triumphant and yet dumbfounded. And as Bubblegum reached down to place a trembling hand on Marceline's abdomen she heard her lover's voice rumbling something unintelligible.

"What was that?

"I'm pregnant," she repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 ~ Morning sickness. How fun. This takes place about 9 weeks into Marceline's pregnancy (so a little more than 2 months).

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><p>Slick crimson smeared across the pale floorboards of Marceline's bedroom, in a horrible swipe beginning at the edge of her beast-skin rug. <em>Blood<em>, was Bubblegum's snap reaction. _Oh, Glob, blood. _And so she pounded on the closed door of her lover's bathroom, under which snaked the thin trail.

"Marceline, Marceline! Marceline, let me in this instant!"

A muffled cough was the only response. _Something's wrong. I ruined it all, I did it wrong. Oh, Glob, oh, Glob, oh Glob._

"Marceline! I'll bust down this door if I have to!"

The candy girl's tears were already beginning to collect when the door slid open. Marceline's face behind it was pale, not its usual grey but a ghostly white. Small smudges of scarlet dimpled the underside of her chin and she was grimacing. Before she could start to grumble, though, Bubblegum grabbed her shoulders, eyes probing with concern.

"I-it's on your face . . ."

"Uhm, yeah. Maybe if you weren't so flippin' impatient I would have had time to at least clean myself up," she fussed.

"What happened? A-are you hurt? Is something wrong with the -"

"Jeesh, Bonnibel, calm your buns! It's just a little puke!"

Bubblegum was dumbstruck.

"P-puke . . . ?"

"Yeah, don't you know anything about pregnancy? Morning sickness," Bubblegum's brows knit together, and Marceline pressed, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Marceline, did you vomit blood?"

The princess' eyes were wild with worry, her brain racing with names of possible complications. _Hypertensis gravidarum? What can I do about that? Get her back to the Castle, get her on a drip, keep her warm and hydrated. Do vampires need hydration? How do I distill the color red into a liquid?_

"Princess!"

"What?"

"I'm a vampire, remember? I eat the color red, right? So when I'm sick, I puke red too. Calm the stuff down, will ya?" Marceline floated back to her sink, splashed a trickle of cool water on her face and wiped the red from her skin with the backside of her hand. Retrieving a thin scrunchie from her porcelain medicine cabinet, she pulled back her hair into a slipshod bun.

"I'm fine," she murmured, bearing back towards her bed. Bubblegum followed her, allowing herself to feel relief. _Crisis averted. _And then another thought came.

"Marceline, let me clean that up. Your floor, I mean. Where are the paper towels?"

"In the bathroom," her voice crackled from beneath thin navy blankets. After a small pause, the snap in her voice subsided and she spoke again, soft and meek, "But, hey . . . you could come over here and we could cuddle. It doesn't need to be clean right away."

"That's quite alright. It's no trouble."

"No, Peebles. Just come here?"

"In a moment," the princess knelt to the floor, wiping the browning stains in circular motions. She made quick work of the task, then tossed the crumpled sheets of paper towel into Marceline's wastebasket. All but one, from which she tore a red-soaked fragment. Surreptitiously, she inserted that fragment into a plastic petri dish. _For study_, she told herself with a smile.

"Bonni . . . ! Wanna bring that trash can over here with you?" Marceline called, words slightly obscured through her palm's barrier against her mouth. Bubblegum hastened to her lover's side, held out the wastebasket while Marceline wretched. It was interesting, she noted, to see Marceline like this. _Vulnerable? Is that the right word?_ The older woman shuddered, tears pricked at the edges of her bright eyes, and she scraped the heel of her palm against her mouth's corner. Back beneath the covers she sunk, and Bubblegum followed her.

The bed was stiff, a far cry from the luxuriant plush of the princess' own, but she supposed Marceline rarely slept _on _it anyway. There had been no years of erosion to tenderize the block of mattress.

"Why aren't you floating, anyway?"

Bubblegum expected a snappy retort. _Cuz you can't float, dipstick_. Something to that effect. But Marceline's words came earnest, for she was too worn to maintain her front of aloof gruffness.

"It's too much effort," she mumbled, slipping one arm beneath a pillow equally as rigid as the bed upon which it rested. Her other arm whispered about her stomach, fingers playing out over the pale skin there. Wrapping her own body in a curve about Marceline's, Bubblegum laced her own pink digits between the longer ones.

"I suppose this is only the first step in the process, hmm Marcie?"

"I guess, yeah."

Bubblegum planted a cool kiss at the base of Marceline's neck, pulled a handkerchief embroidered with berries from her pocket, and wiped her lover's sweaty brow.

"You should rest."

"Nah, you came all the way here to see me, I should stay awake for you. Besides, I don't really _need _to sleep," the vampire queen nestled her fingers tighter between Bubblegum's, then retrieved her other arm from beneath the pillow and wrapped it protectively around her upper abdomen.

"Nevertheless," a second kiss met Marceline's nape, "I want you adequately rested throughout this whole pregnancy. What we're trying to do here is . . . well, risky. It's never been done before. You know how distant relations have been, historically, between the Candy Kingdom and your people. You've been queen for quite some time. No one would ever dream of this, the engineering of a hybrid offspring between two species, for all intents and purposes."

Bubblegum could feel Marceline's face draw into an expression of disconcertion. She could not see, but she knew that the sharp jut of the vampire's nose was flaring out, her lips reaching back to bare instinctually the white needles of her teeth, her slim eyebrows knitting together.

"By engineering a hybrid offspring, you mean me getting pregnant, right? The hybrid offspring is our baby?"

"Well, of course."

Marceline grumbled something about stupid science names, then continued, "So that's why you were so uptight before? About my puke?"

"I . . . I thought it was blood. I thought there were complications. I was worried something had gone wrong. It's all very . . . exploratory, what we're doing. To be honest, I didn't even know if the fertilization would work, nevertheless implantation. But it seems like everything's worked out."

The vampire queen only nodded, the bulk of her concentration focused on willing her eyelids open. She stretched her fingers wider across her stomach, splaying them out into a star. She let her eyes close, then, and she felt a small heartbeat throb through her middle. Satisfied, she let down her guard completely, and allowed the gentle rhythm, not unlike a steady baseline, lull her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

First the thin slit of red appeared on Bubblegum's bedroom wall. It sliced down the length of the panel like the slightest of wounds, the type not noticed until signaled by a surge of blood. The slit wrenched apart and revealed for the briefest of moments another, darker world. From this chasm Marceline emerged. The wall clamped shut.

The moment captured Bubblegum leaning intently over a mosaic of parchment, quill in hand, copying and copying again her notes. Notes on Marceline's growth, on her morning sickness. Notes on test results, analysis.

From where she hovered, Marceline murmured, "Hey Bonni."

The princess jumped a head's height from her lacquered chair, nearly shrieking, "Marceline, you scared me!"

"That must be pretty absorbing," her voice was forcibly subdued, her fingers twitching.

Bubblegum nodded in reply.

"Just looking over and re-writing some things. For organization's sake."

Marceline nodded too, although with decidedly less enthusiasm.

It had been a whole three days since Marceline had "officially" moved in with Bubblegum. The vampire queen was likely to attribute her move to the other monarch's nagging, but she too had begun to feel the growing pressure of motherhood. She thought it best herself to consolidate their homes, for traveling back and forth proved to be much too inconvenient. And since Bubblegum did - as she reminded Marceline at least several times a day - "have a kingdom to run," the vampire allowed herself to be convinced. So, saying a fond and hopefully temporary goodbye to her old whitewashed cave home, she packed up her belongings and relocated them to the palace.

Bubblegum's once orderly room was now peopled in odd corners by recording equipment, piles of old t-shirts, and the eerie mounted skulls of what the princess could only imagine were those poor creatures unfortunate enough to pick a fight with Marceline.

"So, whats up?"

Outright now, Marceline fumed, "Dude, did you forget? The Nightosphere? My dad? _Telling_?"

"Oh Glob, that's right! I'm sorry, I was just so caught up," apologetically, she brushed the parchments aside, "How did it go?"

"He said I wasn't old enough or some junk!"

"Not old enough?"

"I know! Total butts, right?"

Bubblegum nodded and let out a sigh, taking notice of her lover's raised dander. Marceline was clenching her hands into fists, her eyes flickering with wild anger and something like disappointment.

"And then, when I told him about us, he flipped the bizz out. He was all like, 'Marceline, why didn't you tell me you were a _bisexual_?' He stressed it just like that, like the way you talk when you diagnose flippin' candy autopsies. '_Bisexual_." I told him that I'm pan and those are two totally different things and he just doesn't get _anything_!"

"What a butt," Bubblegum knew from small glimpses that Marceline's relationship with her father was far from perfect. The fry incident, of course, came to mind. But now she saw firsthand the anguish – because that's what it was, _anguish_ – that their clashes could produce.

"He can't even be happy for me," the older woman continued. And then, with a sudden recognition, she announced, "He still isn't over the last time!"

Now incredulous, the princess gaped, "Last time?"

Marceline's face bruised a dark purple, the blush of one who has revealed something which they never _ever_ intended to.

"What?" she spluttered, her fangs' tips protruding in an insincere smile, "What last time? Nothing . . . !"

The vampire queen descended to the floor, footfalls muffled by the pink carpet.

"Please Bonni," she began pleading, "Please, just let it go, it's honestly no big

deal –"

"What," the princess' tone severe, "is it?"

Marceline sunk again, this time to the bed. She stared into her lap, thumbing her calloused fingers over denim-clad legs, reluctant and borderline ashamed.

"Remember that dweeb Ash I used to date?"

The usage of past tense verbs eased Bubblegum's suspicions substantially. She sat on the bed, beside Marceline, who shifted, uncomfortable, unsure of how Bubblegum would receive the information. The vampire queen knew her lover could be fiercely spiteful, had herself been on the Princess' bad side and had no wish to return to those _hinterlands, _thank you very much. So she came clean, but did so tentatively, words stepping gingerly out of her mouth.

"We, um, we had a scare. At one point."

"Yes . . . ?"

"He said he had a croak dream or a sleep prophecy or something, but I think he was just scared and wanted to sound legit. Anyway, we thought for a while . . . it was kinda panicky and there was a lot of arguing. Yeah, a whole lot of that . . ." Her voice stayed soft and sussurous.

"And?" Bubblegum encouraged her.

Her words came out thick, waterlogged, beginning with an exasperated "Lumping heck!" at the tears working their way from her eyes, "He told my dad. And boy was he _pissed_. Like really pissed. And he yelled and said all kinds of things, just – yeah, that wasn't a good time . . ."

She flopped onto the bed, ran crooked fingers through her black hair spread like an ink stain across the hot pink linens. Crying in earnest now, she reached for a pillow, into which she promptly burrowed her face. Her face sufficiently obscured from Bubblegum's view, she allowed herself a fierce moment of tears. The princess reached for her lover, stroking her fingers down the other woman's long arm, and Marceline writhed across the mattress towards her. Not too close as to denote dependence, not yet. But close enough that Bubblegum was able to lie beside her and lace an arm beneath her trembling shoulders.

When her breathing returned to its normal near absence, Marceline removed the pillow from over her head. Her pale cheeks were mottled with purple splotches, impressed there by the damp cushion.

"B-but the funny thing is," she attempted – made a choking, hiccupping noise – and continued, "The funny thing is that I guess it was alright, you know? Like, I mean, it was a good thing."

Another pause, long, introverted, deep with contemplation. Bubblegum remained silent, watching with interest as she realized that Marceline was coming to some long-awaited conclusion.

"Because, you know, now I _know_. Like, back then, I knew for sure that I wasn't ready. I didn't want a kid at all, not then, not with him. It just wasn't right, you know? But now," another unnecessary inhalation, "Now I can compare and I know this time that I _am _ready. E-everything's right, Bonni. The time, the place, Glob, you and me. It's all right."

The vampire queen hazarded a smile, "Ash was a total wad, and there was no way I was going to spend the rest of however long it would take to raise a kid with him."

Reassured by the success of the smile, she broke into a chuckle, "But you . . . Oh, man Bonni, you. Who would've guessed it, but you're the person I want to spend all of my time with. A-and I do want to have this kid together. And I feel ready."

Bubblegum was the next one to cry, her eyes lacing with syrupy tears, "Oh, Marcie . . ."

"Geez, princess. If you start getting all weepy, Glob knows what'll send me over the edge. All these undead hormones, man, they're making me way crazy. You've gotta be my rock," with her index finger, Marceline wiped the sugar water from her lover's eyes. She smiled infectiously, laughed a wonderful, full of excitement and energy laugh.

"What about your dad?"

"No worries, Bonni. He'll come around."


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, come help me out with the laundry," Finn's voice erupted from what appeared to be a sentient heap of wadded up clothing. The mound tottered along on wobbling legs, shedding grass-stained shorts and grungy socks in its wake.

"Aww, c'mon, man, for real?" the dog griped.

"Yeah, man, PB's coming over soon!"

"Alright, lemme just get my snorkel."

Jake snapped said device onto his face and dove into a dirty clothes pile, somersaulting twice. Moments later, he emerged, enveloping the clothes in a single inflated paw.

"Oh Glob, it smells like old cheese in there. Do you even use soap?"

"Lalalalala, I can't hear you! I'm already down in the basement!"

"Wait up, dude –"

_Klok-klok. Klok-klok-klok._

Finn scrambled to the door, opening it to the cheery face of Princess Bubblegum. Finn's own cheeks heated up. Sure, he was interested in Flame Princess, but the candy monarch was wedged in his head like a wad of gum in his hair. The more he tugged at those sickly pink feelings, the deeper they worked their way in. He averted his gaze abashedly.

"Hey, Princess. Come on in."

She did so, ascending the ladder and entering the tree house's second level. There, Jake shot her a friendly greeting and cleared off the couch.

"You two sit. Jakey's gonna make some lunch," he crossed to the other side of the room.

"So, Peebles, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I have a new duty for you, Finn."

The boy's eyes lit up.

"A _duty_, Princess? What kind of a duty? Is there an ogre that needs to be taken out? Another zombie outbreak? Which sword should I bring?"

Bubblegum chuckled, "You don't need to start just yet, Finn. Chill out while I explain, okay?"

Finn nodded, drawing his legs close into his chest and resting his chin on the peaks of his knees, all intent. A long, orange arm bearing a platter of sandwiches zipped towards the couch, shortly followed by the rest of Jake's plump body. Finn reached for a sandwich and chewed slowly as Princess Bubblegum began.

"Boys, as heroes of Ooo you're being called upon by the Candy Kingdom for a new obligation. You've saved my people many a time and have proven yourself most loyal to the throne. Before I tell you the details, you have to promise that you will hold strong to your commitment to the Royal Family of the Candy Kingdom under all circumstances."

"_Royal_ promise?" Finn intoned, reverent.

Bubblegum cringed.

"I don't think that will be necessary. I trust you both."

The boy and the dog placed hands over their hearts and closed their eyes. Finn lifted his other hand into the air.

"We promise."

"Good," the princess nodded. Bubblegum inhaled slowly, shut her own eyes, plucked the words she would say carefully from the lexicon of her vocabulary.

"What is it, Princess? Is something wrong?"

Finn extended a concerned hand towards her.

"No, Finn. Quite the opposite. There's a new member of Ooo royalty on the way. Your mission will be to protect him or her."

"On the way? Like, on a boat?"

"Like a baby, dude!" Jake enthused.

"A baby? Dude, sweet! Whose baby?"

The candy princess drew her graces about herself, preparing silently for any of the multitudes of reactions she anticipated.

"My baby."

"Your . . . your baby?" the boy's face fell. Puzzled, Jake piped up.

"What about Marceline?"

"W-what _about _Marceline, dude? Why should Marceline be involved in this? What's going on . . . ?" Finn's fists balled up over his bruised knees, knuckles reddening from the pressure. Jake placed a comforting arm over his trembling shoulders. His tone shifted to apologetic.

"Finn, look . . . Maybe I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to intrude on the Princess and Marceline's business. That's kinda why I wanted to set you up with Flame Princess, so you would be able to move on. Bubblegum . . . well, she –"

"Thank you, Jake. I can explain," Bubblegum leaned down directly into Finn's line of sight, her primrose cheek brushing his ever-so-slightly. Gently, she placed her hands over his. The clenched little fingers splayed out to rest their backsides against her palms, a subconscious tropism that sent a pang of guilt through Bubblegum's chest.

"Finn," she began. Inhaled. Continued, "You're a dear friend to me. And I do love you. Just . . . like a brother. First of all, you are a bit young for me, but second . . . I'm in love with Marceline."

Finn blinked back stinging tears from his eyes. He wasn't angry, Bubblegum noticed with some surprise, not bitter or vindictive. Just crushingly disappointed. She almost wished for a more violent response. It would have left her without such a profound sense of remorse, pity for the boy.

She enclosed him in an embrace, reaching a hand under his strange little hat to stroke at his hair. She knew to keep the contact brief, and pulled away after a few moments. Wiping his eyes and smudging dirt across his face as well, Finn lifted his face to meet hers.

"But, Princess. If you love Marceline, then . . . how are you going to have a baby? I mean, don't you need . . ." a ruddy blush spread across his cheeks, negating the need for him to even complete his sentence.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that too," added Jake.

Here was where she could again feel comfortable. This merely amounted to a lecture, an explanation of a scientific process. It was something much easier to quantify. Something she could more easily traverse than the tender emotions of a thirteen-year-old boy. And so, she laid out the logistics behind Marceline's pregnancy, describing it with clinical precision, if not clinical detachment. At the end of what one could, perhaps accurately, label as the small dissertation, Finn took in a deep breath of air.

He slid from the couch, feet reaching the tree house floor with two muted thumps. Bending low, he gestured with a flourish, then bobbed his torso back up again. Bubblegum smiled at his buoyant little bow and he smiled back too.

"I would be honored to serve and protect your child, milady."

Jake followed suit, but Finn didn't hear his friend's dutiful assent over the roaring in his own ears. In a daze, he accompanied Jake and Bubblegum across the room, down the stairs, to the door. He waved, laughed at Jake's inevitable wisecrack, grinned as the princess left. He returned up the ladder, plopped back on the couch. He twisted a cord of fabric from the upholstery, chasing his feelings and trying to corral them into some sort of identification.

"I don't know, dude," he hazarded, after nearly fifteen minutes of silence, "it's weird. It's like . . . I feel like a big bubble just burst in my chest, you know? But . . . I also feel . . . like it's gonna be okay. And, sort of a little shaky and really excited."

A peal of boyish laughter filled the room.

"You know what I mean, dude?"

"I know, brother."


	5. Chapter 5

"Your abdominal circumference is definitely increasing, Marceline."

"Oh, what, so I'm fat?"

Bubblegum drew the tape measure across Marceline's ashen skin, taut over her swollen belly. Contrary to what the Princess' pregnancy books suggested, the vampire had begun to show well before projected average of 16 weeks. Though she _was _slim - almost painfully so - to begin with, likely accentuating what would have seemed a small bump on another woman. Thankfully, Marceline had a large arsenal of oversized tee-shirts and pants with loose fitting wastes, and the graduation to maternity wear had not been yet made. That was one adventure Bubblegum did not look forward to.

"You aren't fat, Marcie. Your circumference is just increasing."

She planted a kiss on her lover's bulging belly button, unable to visualize it as doing anything other than popping out to seek attention. As much research as she had done, Bubblegum had never observed a real pregnancy. Candy people reproduced in kitchens, with sugar and measuring cups and just the right amount of heat. A pregnant stomach was one marvel she hadn't ever had the chance to examine up close.

And so, she did what any princess of her scientific caliber would do: she measured. Every day the tape measure found its way from the crest of Marceline's pubic bone to the top of her uterus, just below her breasts, as far as Bubblegum could tell. Her breasts, well, _Blob_, her breasts. Those were measured too, first with caliper and then with cupping hands. It seemed every day they felt heavier with what the two could only assume was milk - interesting, Bubblegum noted, that Marceline's undead body could produce such a substance. They also grew more sensitive, so that at times an accidental brush or a not-so-accidental rub would elicit soft mewls of pleasure or a rapid stiffening of dark nipples.

Of course, those notes, too distasteful for Bubblegum to consider real science, were kept in another journal.

"So, you're saying I'm fat."

Finished recording today's findings, the princess turned to her queen. Before splaying a hand in a rosy star over Marceline's cobalt, naked skin, she whispered.

"Not fat. Beautiful."


End file.
